I Wasn't Prepared
by Im-On-A-Roll
Summary: I remember all those years of training, and how this is where they've gotten me. I think of how this is what I've been preparing for my whole life. I remember being launched into the arena just yesterday feeling prepared. And I was. I was prepared to make my parents proud, and to put years of training to the test, and to bring pride to my district. But I wasn't prepared for this.
1. Chapter 1

**I Wasn't Prepared**

_Chapter 1_

"Twenty seconds!" The robotic female voice echoes in the launch room.

I take in the meaning of the announcement. Twenty seconds. And thank goodness too. For barely a week, I've been counting down the hours. Now, I have only seconds until the entire country is watching me on television fighting for my life in the arena.

My stylist, a middle-aged woman named Ariella, quickly examines my outfit: A pale blue shirt with short sleeves, grayish-green pants, and brown boots that are made for running.

"Just one more thing," she says. She removes a navy zip-up jacket from a coat hanger and throws it onto my shoulders. As I fasten the zipper, she asks, "You ready, Annie?"

My reply is a very light chuckle. Ready? Please. She's known me for almost a week and she's just asking me this now? We from District 4 are literally born ready for this. I've been shaking in my boots with excitement ever since my name was called at the Reaping. And it helped that my parents came to me afterwards to offer their support.

"_This is what you've prepared for, Annie,"_ my mom said. _"We know our girl, she never fails. Once she's been given a task, she never faces it unprepared." _

My dad patted me on the shoulder and said, _"That's right, girl. You go straight into that arena with your head held high and you show 'em what you're made of."_

They were right about me. Once I have a goal, I won't rest until I achieve it. These Games are no exception. Both my parents had always hoped to be picked as tributes, and every year when neither of their names was drawn, they went home thinking maybe the odds would be in their favor next year. By the time they were eighteen, their hopes had been shattered. Now I, their only child, have brought those hopes back to life. I have been given the chance that they were never given: to bring honor to, not only my district, but also the Cresta family. I've never let them down before and I don't intend to start now.

"Ten seconds!"

When I hear this final warning, I know it's time. Time to put years of training in combat and survival to the test.

Before I approach the glass tube that will launch me into the arena, Ariella gives me one final, "Good luck, Annie."

I hardly think it's necessary. I'm a trained career, not some trembling runt from 10, 11, or 12. The odds couldn't be more in my favor. I've been given privileges those other kids can only hope to get, one of them being an alliance. I don't just mean a long-since formed alliance with my district partner like most tributes do, although Harper has always been a skilled fighter. No, I mean a real career alliance; the practically mandatory annual alliance that is formed of at least a fourth of the twenty-four tributes. On the very first day of training, Harper and I found favor with the tributes from Districts 1 and 2, who had been watching us succeed at everything from knot tying to spear throwing. And the rest is history.

Still, I feel that the least I can do is graciously accept Ariella's comment, especially since I've been feeling a bit of disdain for her ever since I saw the ridiculous costume she'd prepared for me to wear for the opening ceremonies. I quickly brush this feeling off and smile in response. Then, I turn and walk towards the glass tube. I step inside it, stopping on a round metal plate. Barely a second later, the sliding door of the tube shuts behind me. I take one more look at Ariella, who gives me a reassuring nod, and then the metal plate beneath my feet begins to rise.

At this point, I'm wondering what my surroundings will consist of once I'm in the arena. They never tell us, the Gamemakers like to keep it a surprise. Judging by my outfit, I can tell it won't be anything aquatic. A very small part of my spirit dies. Back home, I've always gotten praise for being a great swimmer. I can certainly hold my breath underwater longer than anyone in my class. So from the moment I became a tribute, I'd hoped the arena would be an island or at least something with a waterfall. I shared this comment with my mentors, and while they agreed that that sounded pleasant (especially Finnick) they reminded me that not all of the tributes would be built for swimming. A water-themed arena would easily cause all the others to drown and then the Games would be over before they could technically begin. After all, it's our duty as tributes to give the Capitol a good show. Regardless of the theme of the arena, I'll be prepared to make a beeline for the cornucopia.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted when I find myself lifted from the underground tunnels and into cool, damp air and bright sunlight. Most of the other tributes probably need a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light, but not me. I'm used to sunlight, having grown up by the ocean, which is always reflecting the sun's rays. Here, the sky is actually cloudy, but rays of sunlight are poking through the clouds as if the sun is prepared to burst through at any moment.

Suddenly, Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes around me. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventieth annual Hunger Games begin!"

_End of Chapter_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

I make out my surroundings fairly quickly. The arena appears to be mountainous, perhaps not unlike the area formerly known as the Rockies, on which the Capitol and a large section of District 2 have been built. We're in a large, slightly listing clearing surrounded by a fair amount of trees. It's very damp here. It looks like it's just finished raining. The ground is wet and a bit soggy, but it looks firm enough to run on. The golden cornucopia, which is listing on the uneven ground, is uphill from where I am. I look around and notice a few tributes are positioned more level with it than I am. In and around the cornucopia are various weapons, food, water, medicine, and other supplies we tributes will need to stay alive. We all know the routine: When the sixty-second countdown is complete, we all vie for the best supplies. It's no secret that many tributes won't make it out of this bloodbath alive. The question, though, is who will and who won't?

As I look around, I also notice that I've been conveniently placed between two of my fellow career allies. To my right is Opal, the girl from District 1. I can only help but notice how beautiful she looks even in the simplest of clothing. Her arena jacket is lavender, but other than that she and I are dressed identically. Even so, she stands so gracefully on her pedestal that she makes the simple outfit look like a smashing ensemble straight from her district. No surprise there, to be honest. She's a beautiful girl and everyone knows it. Her perfectly angled features, flowing golden brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and athletic but graceful physique have no doubt earned her a long line of sponsors already. And who could forget how dazzling she and Sterling, her district partner, looked at the opening ceremonies? She was dressed in a long, form-fitting gown of gold sequins with a collar, hat, and cuffs made from white fur. Harper and I were laughing stocks compared to them. Ariella had us dressed in shiny blue leotards and huge, puffy, round hats (which were wider than either of our bodies) with shiny, body-length ribbons hanging from the edges in all directions. We were supposed to be jellyfish, but we felt more like stupid, waving mushrooms. Not exactly a great way to make a first impression to sponsors, but Opal and Sterling could never have had that problem.

Then I glance to my left and see Viola, the girl from District 2, who has her sinister eyes fixed on something in the mouth of the cornucopia. She may be my ally, but I'm sorry to say that as far as appearances go, she's a far cry from Opal. She's about two years younger than me, but she's twice as intimidating. She's about 5'7" with a husky build. She has a beet red face, angry black eyes, untidy dirty blonde curls, and very thin, pale eyebrows. Viola is certainly no beauty queen, but her appearance does make a statement: "I've got a never-quenching thirst for blood, and if you're not careful, your blood is next." She looks particularly bloodthirsty in her blood red arena jacket. Something tells me that isn't the closest to blood that she's going to get.

I find it rather unusual that the three of us are right next to each other. The Gamemakers must've watched us in training and decided we're inseparable. We must make a powerful trio. Not surprising. The three of us earned the highest training scores of all the girls: Viola received a 10 and Opal and I each received a 9. None of the other girls came even close to that… No… Come to think of it, there was one who did come close. The eighteen-year-old girl from District 9, I think her name is Amber, received an 8. A score that high is uncommon for a tribute from District 9. Then again, I remember watching Amber in training. She's tall and well fed for a girl from 9, and she can do wonders with a sickle sword. No wonder. District 9 is the grain district. She must've used sickles all the time at home to harvest grain. I look around again to see if she's near us, but before I can find her, the gong sounds and we're released from our pedestals.

I'm still rather upset about being downhill from the cornucopia, but being such a good swimmer means I have good leg strength, which makes me an equally good runner. I sprint as fast as I can, ignoring all the less important supplies that are only a few feet from my pedestal. A pack of crackers is of no use to me. I'm a career. It's either go big or don't go at all. I dart straight for the mouth of the cornucopia. Once there, I grab a green backpack and hurriedly strap it around my shoulders. I'll see what's inside it once the bloodbath is finished. Then I look around to see if anyone is trying to sneak up on me. No one is, but I suddenly get jealous when I see my allies getting started without me. About ten yards away, Opal grabs the girl from District 8 by the hair and begins to stab her in the back with a machete. Not much farther, the boy from 5 is running in fear with Viola right on his tail carrying an axe. No way am I going to let them have all the fun. I begin looking around for a weapon I can use. A sword on the ground, only inches in front of the cornucopia, suddenly grabs my attention. I dive for it, but Parr, the boy from 2, grabs it before me. If I weren't in an alliance with him, I'd never frown at him the way I do. He's bigger than Viola and just as intimidating. He's over six feet tall and built like a barge. He has jet-black hair and thick matching eyebrows that nearly conceal his dangerous olive green eyes. I have no doubt that he volunteered at the Reaping.

"Sorry, Annie," he says. "It's first come first serve. But you can use it later, I promise. Meanwhile, that kid from 3 is asking for this."

He runs about 20 yards downhill and stabs the boy from 3, who was trying to make a break for it. I continue to look for weapons, but all the best ones keep disappearing. And they're not all that's disappearing. After a few minutes, the only living tributes that surround me are the other careers. About five bodies lay dead on the ground. The rest of the tributes must've left already. I can't believe it. There's no one for me to finish off. I wasted too much time looking for the right weapon.

Opal notices my disappointed face, and comes up to me. "Don't worry, Annie," she says. "You'll get your chance."

I just shrug. The others approach us. I look around at them and then notice something. "Hey, where's Harper?"

"Well when last seen, he was chucking a spear at the girl from 6," says Sterling.

"Anything else?" I ask.

"Actually yeah, come to think of it," says Viola. "I saw him chuck a spear at another girl, but she was too fast and got away. So he chased after her."

I roll my eyes. "That's Harper for you. He's always been the relentless type. I'm gonna go see if I can help him. Which way did he go?"

Viola points in the direction she saw Harper last heading. I go off on my own. The others say they'll stay behind and keep an eye on the rest of the supplies.

_End of chapter_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 _

I head downhill for a few minutes, keeping my eyes peeled and never letting my guard down. As I go, I examine the contents of my backpack. A loaf of raisin bread, an apple, an orange, an empty water canteen, a space blanket, a waterproof box of matches, a roll of bandages, a knife, and a vial of Capitol medicine. At least I was able to get hold of something useful. I stuff everything back into the pack, except the knife.

Suddenly, a loud series of cannon explosions makes me lose my focus. Everyone in the country, whether they're in the arena, Capitol, or districts, knows what these cannons mean. Each shot marks the fall of another tribute. I quietly count each shot to myself. Seven. That's unusual. Normally, at least half the tributes die in the initial bloodbath. Maybe this year, we've got a crop of tributes who are willing to put up a fight instead of give up so easily. Like everyone says, they all just want a good show.

After searching for about fifteen minutes, I come to a small area of flat ground. There I come across two tributes, though neither of them notices I'm right on top of them. I smile somewhat jokingly when I take a closer look at the one closest to me. His navy jacket and dark brown hair identifies him as Harper. He's crouched down, hiding in the long grass, one hand clutching a spear. The other tribute, I'm assuming the girl from District 7, doesn't even know he's there. She's seated on a log more than five yards away, eating something she probably found in her backpack. Well, I'll give Harper this: at least he's a good predator. But if there's one thing I know about him, it's that he's easily taken by surprise. I quietly sneak up behind him right when he stands up, preparing to draw back his spear. He still doesn't know I'm there, but he's about to find out the hard way. I draw my knife and throw it past him right into the girl's back. She falls from her seat on the log and a cannon blasts to announce her death.

"Eight down," I say happily.

Harper turns around and finally sees me. "Ugh! Screw you, Annie!" he half laughs.

"Hey, it was only right," I say. "I hadn't killed anybody and I know you've already killed one."

"Two," he corrects.

"Then we're almost even," I say smiling.

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. So where are the others?"

"Back at the cornucopia," I reply. "They stayed behind to guard our stuff while I went to look for you. Now that I've found you, what's say we go back before they decide to gang up on us?"

"Fine," he says.

As we make our way back up the mountain, I can only help but say, "By the way, if you expect to stay alive much longer, you've gotta improve your guard."

He gets only slightly defensive against this. "I was deep in thought. Don't act like you wouldn't be."

"Well you sure took your time thinking," I say. "No wonder I scored higher than you in training."

"I wanna make sure I shoot at the perfect time."

"Please, you wasted enough precious time back there. She had no idea you were behind her. Honest to God, why can't you be more like Finnick?"

He gives me a look. "Are we really doing that again?"

"What?" I ask.

"Comparing me to your boyfriend Finnick again?" he asks with a laugh.

"Okay for the umpteenth time, he is not my boyfriend," I explain calmly. "He is…"

"Our mentor, our district's most famous victor, and the sexiest man alive. I know, I know, sing a new song, Annie."

"I never said that last part," I say.

"You don't have to," he replies. "It's written all over your face."

I open my mouth to argue, but then I decide to keep joking around with him. "You know, that wasn't the only knife I had," I say with a devious smile. "And our goal here is to fight until only one is left standing."

"You wouldn't dare," he says.

I raise my eyebrows and begin to remove my backpack. "Challenge accepted."

I chase him all the way back to the cornucopia. We're both laughing all the while. When we arrive, the others are there waiting.

"So, what'd we miss?" I ask, trying to catch my breath.

"We should be asking you that," says Parr. "We heard a cannon not too long ago."

"Oh yeah, I finally got to kill someone," I say proudly.

"I was supposed to do it," Harper says jealously.

"Come on, Harper," says Opal. "It's only fair. She was really upset when she didn't get to kill anyone during the bloodbath."

"Yeah," Parr agrees. "If I'd known you were gonna run into anyone, I'd have lent you my sword like I promised."

I chuckle. "Well thanks anyway, Parr."

"Alright, enough small talk," says Sterling, who's clearly starting to get impatient. "We gonna go out hunting or what?"

"For real," agrees Viola. "I don't know about the rest of you but I came here to kill and by God that's what I'm gonna do."

"Okay, okay," Parr says, trying to calm them down. "We can hunt now. Everybody grab a different weapon and make sure we have enough food and water."

_End of Chapter_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

For the next few hours, the six of us search near and far, high and low for victims. I can honestly say if I weren't a career, I wouldn't want to mess with any of my allies. They're all armed to the teeth with the deadliest weapons the cornucopia could provide. Parr has his sword (which I swear is like a child to him), Opal has a set of throwing knives, Sterling has a bow and sheath of arrows, Viola has an axe, Harper has his spears, and I have a crossbow. No one would ever doubt that we're careers. We're prepared and equipped to handle any number of the other tributes, but to our dismay we only manage to kill one after four hours of searching: the boy from District 7. It isn't a total loss though. We cover enough ground to learn some essential stuff about the arena. For example, we all learn that I'm clearly the brains of this group, because I, unlike the others, followed Atala's advice in the training center and learned about survival skills. I point out the poisonous berries and plants and which insects are and aren't edible. I swear these guys would all make Hunger Games history as the fastest career pack to die out if not for me.

More importantly, we cover enough ground to discover the lay of the land, literally. The arena is mostly land and mountains, at least to the naked eye. But after hours of endless marching, we discover the edges of the arena are built up of a series of large dams. The dams are as tall as manmade ones but constructed from logs, as if by beavers. You'd think they were built by beaver mutations. We never approach any of the dams we see, we merely observe them from safe distances. Later that night, as we prepare dinner from the food in our packs, we discuss them.

"I wonder what they're for," Opal says.

The rest of us, except Sterling, give her a dark look.

"They're for baking muffins," Viola replies sarcastically. "What the hell do you think they're for? They're for what all dams are for: keeping water from coming into the arena."

"Seriously, Opal," Harper joins. "Any three-year-old could figure it out."

"Hey, lay off her," Sterling orders. "How's she supposed to know what dams are for?"

"Yeah," says Opal. "It's not like it's information I'm ever gonna need to know in life."

In her defense, that's true. She's from District 1, the luxury district. They specialize in jewels, perfume, cosmetics, and other things in that nature. They don't need to learn about water safety like Harper and me, or about stonework like Viola and Parr.

"We're sorry," Harper relents. "We should all remember that just 'cause we're all trained for the Games doesn't mean we have to know everything."

"Yeah, sorry," Viola says, sounding less sincere than Harper.

After a brief pause, Opal quietly replies, "It's okay."

We all sit there in dead silence for a few minutes eating our food. The sound of the Panem National Anthem is what breaks the silence. We look up to the dark sky because we know what happens after this. When the music stops, the faces of the fallen tributes appear in the sky. None of us look away; we want to be able to know who's left besides the six of us. The fallen: the boy from 3, the boy from 5, the girl from 6, both from 7, the girl from 8, the boy from 9, and both from 12.

"No surprise to those last two," Parr laughs about the pair from 12. "Guess their pathetic old drunk of a mentor isn't showing any signs of sobering up."

"No kidding," says Opal. "Is he even trying to give them any advice at all anymore?"

"Well he sure is giving them advice on how to get killed," says Viola.

"As opposed to the other mentors," says Sterling. "It's the end of the first day and barely anyone's died."

We all nod in agreement.

"We can only hope that if we don't get them, the mutts will," I say.

"Where's the fun in that?" Parr asks.

"Anything's more fun than last year," says Opal.

She's right actually. Last year's arena was a huge wasteland of ice and snow. Almost none of the tributes were killed in combat. Nearly all of them died a slow and painful death from hypothermia. The victor barely made it out alive. He suffered from frostbite until the Victory Tour.

"Point taken," Parr agrees. "What a snore fest."

"Good thing we're surrounded by trees then," I say. "We should have no trouble starting a fire."

"Yeah, what a relief," says Harper. "The odds are definitely in our favor."

"Well obviously. At least you and I have made it farther than the pair from 4 last year," I remind him. "They made it only five minutes in."

"Seriously?" Viola asks. "What a pathetic pair of careers."

"Eh, it's not so surprising," I say. "I remember having class with the girl, Deb, at school. She was kind of a bimbo."

"Yeah," says Harper with a sarcastic smile. "She was probably too distracted by pretty boy Finnick to actually pay attention to his advice, right Annie?"

There he goes again. Really, is it my fault Finnick is such a sweetheart? A really beautiful sweetheart? A really beautiful sweetheart with strong arms and gorgeous chiseled abs and… By the way the others are staring at me, I'm assuming my face is reflecting my thoughts. I really hope I'm not blushing. Then why do my ears feel so warm? I clear my throat and quickly change the subject.

"Well, I don't know about you all, but I think I'm ready to turn in."

Luckily, the others like the sound of that.

"Me too," Opal sighs. "Endless hours of marching around this God forsaken arena. My feet are killing me."

"Who wants to stand guard?" Parr asks.

"I'll do it," Harper offers.

I roll my eyes. "Sure Harper, why don't we just wear neon arrows on our heads?"

The others laugh.

"Come on," Harper says in a serious tone. "I can handle it."

"You sure?" Parr asks.

"Cross my heart."

I find a flat, soft place on the ground, unroll my space blanket, and drape it over my body. Right when I begin to doze off, I watch Harper carefully if not suspiciously. I remember how he let his guard down when I killed the girl he wanted to kill earlier today. Not like I was trying to sneak up on him, but I question what would've happened if my knife had missed and I hit him instead of the girl. He can't be trusted as a guard. If the others knew him as well as I do, they would never have let him do this. I take one last look at him sitting there wide awake with a spear in his hand, and fall asleep hoping at least one of the others is a very light sleeper.

_End of chapter_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

When I wake up, I'm laying flat on my back. I open my eyes just slightly and look up at the morning sky. It looks like it's about seven o'clock. It's very quiet, except for a few birds singing in the trees above us. I'm very comfortable where I am. It feels like one of those moments where you wake up on a school day and your bed feels so warm that you think, "Five more minutes won't hurt". So I decide to give in. I yawn and close my eyes again.

Seconds later, a cannon shot causes my eyes to shoot open. I sit up and look around me. I'm surprised to see that the only person here with me is Harper, who also looks like he's just been awoken by the cannon.

"What happened?" Harper asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Mister I'll-Stand-Guard?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"Don't look at me," he replies. "I stood watch all night. Then the sun started to come up and I was tired so I figured it was okay to go to sleep."

"You mean to tell me that you went to sleep without waking someone else and asking them to take over for you?" I ask.

"Hey, I was tired!" he snaps.

I sigh. "Never mind. We'd better go and look for the others." I roll up my space blanket, stuff it into my backpack, and get to my feet. Harper picks up a few extra spears and we head off, keeping an eye out for our allies.

"I really hope that cannon wasn't for one of them," I say as we start moving.

Harper looks confused. "Why? What difference does it make? It wasn't you and it wasn't me, so why worry?"

"Because they're still our allies," I say.

"Newsflash, Annie, this is the Hunger Games," he says. "No matter how emotionally attached we get to these guys, we're gonna be ganging up on each other sooner or later."

"I know," I say. "But if one of them is dead, we have less chances of living longer."

"Annie, these guys are careers. Trained killers. There's little to no chance of that cannon marking one of their deaths."

"I wouldn't be so sure," I say. "I don't trust that girl from 9."

"Why?"

"She got an 8 in training."

"So what?" Harper asks. "I did too. You trust me, don't you?"

"That's different. You're my district partner and a career. A score like that is normal for someone like you, not a person from an outlying district. Besides, I've seen her once or twice in training. She's not bad with a sickle sword."

"That only proves that you're either observant or just plain nosy."

"Oh well excuse me for trying to get to know our competition," I retort. "Are you too ignorant to do that or were you too 'deep in thought' in training to even notice?"

He looks back at me with a surprised look on his face. "Annie, I thought we were friends."

"We are," I say quickly.

"Then why are we arguing?"

I think about my answer for a short time and then sigh. "I don't know. Probably because you're tired and I'm angry at you for falling asleep and letting your guard down again."

He nods. "Sounds about right," he agrees.

"I'm sorry," I say. "It's just…"

"No, it's fine," he interrupts. "I guess it's true what they say."

"What?" I ask.

"The Games change people," he replies. "Besides, I guess we're just taking baby steps. If District 4 is gonna have a victor, only one of us is gonna come out, right?"

I don't answer. Mainly because I'm afraid to admit that he's right. We've been friends since long before the Games, but ultimately either one of us comes out or neither of us does. This is a bit strange in my mind. Not twenty-four hours ago, we were chasing each other through the arena joking and laughing. Now, we're arguing, exchanging snarky comments, and slowly starting to turn against each other. I try to shake off this feeling.

"Let's… Let's just keep looking," I say.

"Okay."

We search for almost an hour, then stop for nourishment. We each eat a few slices of raisin bread from my pack, and then continue our search for our allies. After another hour, we spot one of those dams at the edge of the arena from a distance.

"We don't have a lot more ground to cover," Harper says.

"I know," I reply. "I don't think I like this. If we go any further, who knows who or _what_ we'll run into?"

"I'm starting to think they're back at camp," says Harper.

"We'd better go back and see then," I say.

He nods and we turn around and start back. Moments later, we stop, or rather he stops because I do.

"Did you hear that?" I ask in practically a whisper.

"Hear what?" asks Harper.

I look behind us and see only a few trees here and there. "I though I heard a twig snap," I say.

"Well that's original," Harper jokes.

"I'm serious," I whisper urgently. "Listen again."

Harper's face becomes serious and we quietly look around. He looks behind us for a moment, and just turns his head when I see something out of the corner of my eye. That something is exactly what I feared it would be.

Amber from District 9, as if by magic, comes out of hiding behind the closest tree and sprints toward us so light-footedly that I can't possibly blame Harper for not hearing her. I can just make out the sickle sword in her hand. My eyes widen as she races towards Harper.

"HARPER!"

It's too late. Amber raises her sickle practically to Harper's eye level. What happens next is more gruesome than anything I've expected to see in the arena. Before Harper can even look at me in response, I see it. In a flash of metal and blood, Harper's decapitated body falls to the ground in the spot where he's standing.

_End of chapter_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Harper's severed head falls right at my feet with a thud. I can only help but look down at it, even though I hate to. I throw my hands over my mouth. Blood pours from his neck and mouth. His gray eyes are wide open and stare up at me with no emotion and no life. The cannon sounds to mark his death, even though Amber and I hardly need it to remind us.

"That's for Rye!" Amber shouts at the body she has just beheaded. I feel like she's referring to her district partner. Harper must've killed him in the bloodbath.

My eyes remain set on Harper's dead ones. Even so, I can tell Amber's turning to me. She doesn't even need to say it. I know she's going to target me next. Still, I remain motionless. I can hardly stand the sight of what's left of my district partner, but my feet remain planted on the ground and my eyes remain just as still.

Amber takes one step closer to me. Before she can take another, something small, fast, and metallic zooms through the air to my right and slashes her in the forehead. She screams in pain and falls to her knees, dropping her sickle to the ground and throwing her hands over the oozing wound. This makes me look away from Harper's head. I turn my head in the direction where the object had come from. Opal stands about twenty yards away with one arm extended in front of her, as if she had just thrown a knife. I look at Amber again and realize that she _had_.

"Get her!" I hear Parr yell.

He, Opal, Sterling, and Viola run towards Amber, who, despite the blood pouring form her forehead, reaches for her sickle. She's just getting to her feet when Viola throws herself onto her, trying to pin her to the ground. But Amber puts up a fight and punches Viola in the nose with her free fist. The other three join in, but I cover my ears and shut my eyes.

I back away slowly, canceling out the violent tussle going on only a few feet in front of me. I refuse to partake in it, even if it means avenging Harper. I refuse to partake in anything that goes on in this prison the Gamemakers call an arena. I need to get away from these savages I once called my allies. They can gang up on other kids to their hearts' content, but I'm through with every single one of them. I open my eyes, just long enough to watch Parr tear a large amount of Amber's hair from her scalp, turn around, and run away as fast as I can without looking back. Where I'm going, I have no idea, but anywhere's better than remaining with those bloodthirsty animals. One thing is for sure though; I need to hide. If they can't find me, they can't kill me.

I run and run for what feels like hours, when in reality it's probably only been twenty minutes, through woods, up and down hills, even through small streams trying to find some sort of hiding place that can conceal me for the rest of the Games. Pretty soon, I stop to catch my breath. I hide behind a large bush and lean against a tree. Then I hear a cannon shot and presently a second one follows it. Who was it? Amber and Opal? Amber and Viola? Maybe Amber got lucky and was able to kill two of them. Ultimately I decide I don't care anymore. Good riddance to those demons, whoever they were.

As I continue to pant heavily, I look down at the ground and see what could just be the best hiding place I can imagine. The large bush that's currently concealing me has originally been concealing a hole, just big enough to crawl through, at the base of the tree. A hollow tree with a hidden entrance, perfect! I don't waste another second. I get down on all fours and crawl through the hole. Once inside, I see that it's not only convenient, but also comfortable. It's spacious inside, and dry, and no other tribute has taken it.

For the next few hours, I lean against the wall of my hiding place trembling at the memory of Harper's decapitated head. I try shutting my eyes, but ironically that only makes it worse. It is a mental image that will most likely haunt me for the rest of my life.

_End of chapter_


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

As night creeps into the arena, I begin to brace myself for a sleep that promises nightmares. Then I hold my hands to my mouth when I hear familiar voices quietly calling my name outside.

"Annie!" I recognize Parr's voice when it's only feet away from the bush that conceals the entrance to my hiding place. "Annie!"

"Shh! Keep it down, Parr," snaps Viola.

With nervous tears forming in my eyes, I quietly look out the hole in the tree and can just barely make out their faces through the leaves of the bush. There are only three of them: Parr, Viola, and Opal. Evidently, the two cannons I heard earlier were Sterling and Amber.

"Well how are we supposed to find her then?" Parr asks.

"I say forget her," says Opal. "She obviously couldn't stomach losing Harper. What makes you think she can put up with any more killings?"

"Yeah," agrees Viola. "Let her die out here alone."

"Okay fine," says Parr. "Then if we do find her, she's history."

"Exactly," says Viola. "Now let's get outta here."

I watch them leave and then return to my previous position. That's right. All of them can forget about me, see if I care. The last thing I want right now is to reunite with them only to have them gang up on me, or worse having to gang up on them, later. As much as I hate them right now, I could never kill them. I could never bring myself to once again stooping to their low. I was just like them only this morning: vicious, ruthless, arrogant. But now that I've seen my friend and district partner suffer a horrific and disgusting death, I'm never going back to how I was.

About an hour later, as I eat the last of the slices of my raisin bread, I hear the Anthem. I look again through the bushes leaves and watch the faces of today's casualties fill the sky: Sterling, Harper, Amber, and the girl from 10. The girl from 10? That was the cannon I heard this morning? The one I thought would be one of my allies and that Harper and I went to investigate? Ugh! I can't believe how stupid we were to leave like that just because we heard the cannon that marked the death of the girl from 10. If we had ignored it and just stayed put, Harper would still be alive right now. And then what? Wouldn't Amber still be following us with the sickle sword, trying to avenge her district partner? Who am I kidding? Whatever way you look at it, it's all going to keep getting uglier.

It's not just Harper's death that I can't escape. It's what he said to me today.

_"The Games change people. Besides, I guess we're just taking baby steps. If District 4 is gonna have a victor, only one of us is gonna come out, right?"_

"Right," I answer out loud, even though I know he can't hear me.

I can only help but say it because it _is_ right. The Games really do change people, and I've had to find that out the hard way. I may never again be the same person I was yesterday because of something that happened in just a few seconds. More to the point, with Harper gone and me slowly beginning to deteriorate, District 4 has very little chances of having a victor this year. Both tributes from 2 and 11 are still alive. And Opal just saw her district partner die, and she's managed to maintain her sanity. And even if, by some miracle, I do win, how could I bring myself to go back to District 4 to face Harper's parents and two little sisters, who are probably crying their eyes out as we speak? I can't believe I never thought of that before. All week, I've been so confident about winning but I never thought that if I did, Harper's wonderful family would be mourning while mine would be celebrating. I guess it's official now. I'm no longer a career and I can no longer bear to think like one.

As I get lost in my thoughts and faults, I hear another sound coming from outside my hiding place. But it's not voices or even footsteps. It's a sound that every tribute in the arena wants to hear: the chiming of a sponsor parachute. And I can tell based on how close the sound is that it's for me. I crawl cautiously out of hiding and see that my gift has landed only inches from the entrance. The parachute has deflated and draped itself onto the branches of the bush. I'm stunned at the size of the huge basket of rolls from my district. There must be at least a dozen. And on top of them is a handwritten note. It must be from Finnick. I take the basket into the tree and examine the note. I recognize the handwriting and I know it isn't Finnick's.

_"Take care of yourself, Annie. With love from Mr. & Mrs. Moss."_

My heart sinks. These rolls are from Harper's parents. My own parents haven't even sent me any gifts yet. I then think of all of them: my parents and Harpers. They're probably all watching together now at one of our houses, all supporting me. Harper's mom is probably weeping on her husband's shoulder. My parents are probably concerned about my wellbeing, but I can hardly help it.

While I'm thinking about it, the thought of my parents adds to my never-ending list of things to reconsider. When my name was called at the Reaping, I remember thinking how sad it was that they never had that experience and how they never got to see how thrilling it is to be in the arena fighting for your life. Now my perspective is completely different. I consider them fortunate and blessed to never have had to witness this hell. And I bet now, seeing their only daughter suffering like this, they probably feel the same way.

I eat one roll, and decide to save the rest for tomorrow. Then I stretch out onto the floor of my sanctuary tucked into my space blanket. As I lay there wallowing in my misery, I continue to rethink my life and how it's been changed so drastically by the Hunger Games. I remember all those years of training, and how this is where they've gotten me. I think of how this is what I've been preparing for my whole life. I remember being launched into the arena just yesterday feeling prepared. And I was prepared. I was prepared to make my parents proud, and to put years of training to the test, and to bring pride to my district. But I wasn't prepared for this. These feelings and more haunt me until I feel into a restless sleep.

_End of chapter _


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Every morning for the next week or so, I wake up screaming from nightmares about Harper, Amber, and the other careers. Then for the rest of the day, I stuff myself with the rest of the rolls from Harper's parents. At first I try to save as many of them as possible, but after a few days I start to receive gifts of water, soup, cheese, and even chicken. I'm grateful to my sponsors and everyone else for sending me these gifts, but what I'd really like is some fancy Capitol medication that can relieve me of nightmares and painful memories. If someone can get their hands on something like that, I will love them until the day I die.

Meanwhile, the Games are turning into more and more of a nail biter. I haven't heard a single cannon since Day 2. I bet the suspense is also killing the people in the Capitol. It's only a matter of time before the Gamemakers send some deadly beast or something into the arena to "liven things up". Either way, you can bet I won't be doing any killing.

I think it's midday on Day 6 when hear footsteps just outside my hiding place. Once again I have to cover my mouth for fear of whoever it is finding me. I look through the leaves of the bush and see the girl from District 5. Once again, I can't help but think about how I would act if I were the same person I was a week ago. I would watch her like a hawk for a moment or two, then come out of hiding and tackle her on the spot. But no. That Annie Cresta is long gone. Instead, I just watch the girl walk by until she's out of sight.

"That's it," I say tearfully and encouragingly. "Just keep on going."

About four days later, still no cannons. There have been eleven of us left since Day 2, including a career pack of three. How in the world can they be avoiding each other so well? I decide to go to sleep to pass the time. I can only hope no nightmares can haunt me during the day, after all that's why they're called _nightmares_ right?

Not much later, I'm awakened by a sudden fierce shaking in the earth. It's an earthquake! I sit up and cover my ears, screaming hysterically. I shut my eyes, trying to cancel out the horrors of reality, wishing it would stop. It finally does after about half a minute. I open my eyes. The earth has definitely stopped shaking, but I feel like that was only the beginning of something even worse. When I uncover my ears, I hear it. It's very faint and is coming from a great distance, but it's a sound I'd know anywhere: the sound of rushing water.

Without caring who could be outside, I leave the safety of my hiding place and frantically start looking around. Then I see it. About two miles away, one of the dams at the edge of the arena has been destroyed by the earthquake. White, foamy waves burst through and over the broken dam with ease. I watch for a few seconds, frozen with fear. Then a distant scream in that direction and the subsequent blast of a cannon convinces me to turn in the opposite direction and run.

I know I should get to high ground. Good thing there are so many mountains here. As I begin to run uphill, I realize this is probably what the Gamemakers are expecting the remaining ten of us to do. They're probably luring us into a trap, hoping we'll all end up in the same place and then finish the Games, and that's why they caused the earthquake. Not like they've never done similar things in past Games. Why else would they have "feasts"? Either that or they're just trying to kill us themselves by flooding the place.

Suddenly, I stop in my tracks. Then I turn around and see the raging water begin to swallow up the ground. And the dam keeps spewing more and more water, showing no signs of stopping. As I stand here barely a third of the way up the mountain, somewhere inside me the old Annie begins to fill my conscience. I remember telling my mentors, Ariella, and even my prep team how I hoped the arena would be something surrounded by water, and pretty soon this whole arena will be nothing _but_ water. I remember wanting to be able to put my swimming skills to the test. Well here's my chance. I may be a completely different person on the inside now. I may have witnessed the death of my friend and district partner. I may be afraid of my own shadow. I may suffer from mental issues for the rest of my life. But I'm still a citizen from District 4, and as such I still know how to swim. I wasn't prepared for all the other hell I've seen in this place, but I was, and still am, prepared for this. This is how I'm going to win the seventieth annual Hunger Games. I stand there, feet firm on the listing ground, waiting for the rising water to reach me.

"Give me your best shot," I say out loud.

Minutes later, it does. The water finally reaches me, and I greet it like an old friend. I take a deep breath, dive in headfirst and let it carry me from the mountain. It actually feels great to be in water again. It makes me feel like I'm back home. The water continues to rise higher, and I go right up with it like a bird on the wind. Never once does the fear of drowning hang over my head. For several minutes, I kick, paddle, and stroke using every ounce of energy in my body. Soon, I begin to hear the screams of my fellow tributes as they begin to drown. As much as I feel for them, I tell myself not to let it distract me from surviving.

At one point, I actually come across three frightened tributes who I don't feel for, but I can't help but watch their every move. Opal, Parr, and Viola are all clinging to the top branches of a tall tree that is just beginning to disappear beneath the violent waves. They don't see me. They're too busy trying in vain to save themselves from drowning. But I see everything. The water reaches Opal and Parr first, because they're on the lowest branches. Before either of them can be submerged, each of them grabs one of Viola's legs and holds on for dear life. Almost immediately, the weight of the three of them proves to be too much for the branch Viola's grasping. It breaks apart from the tree with a loud snap and Viola falls, taking Opal and Parr with her. I watch for several seconds without seeing so much as a single hand break the surface. If my alliance with them wasn't over a week ago, it is now. Then I turn around and keep paddling, as I know my life depends on it.

Within minutes, the entire arena, with the exception of a few mountain peaks here and there, has been completely submerged. By this point, I begin to feel the harsh waves and currents begin to calm down. This must mean the "grand finale" is finished. As the water begins to take the appearance of a tame millpond, I cease paddling and look around me in shock. The arena is completely unrecognizable. The tall, regal mountains that once surrounded me have been replaced by a vast field of blue flatness. The arena has changed outwardly as much as I have inwardly. The water has become smooth as glass when the cannons begin to sound. As I float on the surface, I count nine. It only adds to my pain. More tributes have been killed in this flood than in the cornucopia bloodbath. If that doesn't make Hunger Games history, nothing will.

Moments after the last cannon, the sound of trumpets rings in my ears. I know what this means as much as the millions of people watching me on television do.

"Ladies and gentlemen," announces Claudius Templesmith's voice. "I present to you the winner of the seventieth annual Hunger Games. From District 4: Annie Cresta!"

That's right, Annie Cresta. I may have the same name that was called at the Reaping, but once again I feel like a completely different person. When the hovercraft appears above me to remove me from the arena, I realize that as of this moment the old Annie Cresta has permanently left me.

_End of Chapter_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

I look out the window as the train rushes across the landscape at over two hundred miles per hour. I'm in the car alone. I don't want to see anyone: not my mentors and especially not those Capitol servants. In the distance, I watch the buildings of a district glide by. What district is it? What difference does it make? Among its citizens are two weeping families who are mourning the lives of their kids. I only hope it's not District 7, the home of the only tribute I killed. That girl's family must hate my guts. I may never know until I see them when I visit the district on the Victory Tour.

The past few days have been as bad as the days in the arena. If I had a coin for every Capitol moron who's looked me in the eye and said, "Well done", "Way to go", or "Congratulations", I'd be the richest person in the world. Idiots! Have they no shame? I lost my district partner, my pride, and my sanity in that lousy arena and they have the nerve to congratulate me? Do they even realize that they're just humiliating me? Or better yet, do they even care?

All these questions and more circle in my head when I hear the car door open. I don't bother to see who's joining me. It's pretty obvious anyway. It can only be the one person who's treated me more like a teenage girl than a board game piece since the very first day. I don't care though.

"Hey, kid," says Finnick.

I don't reply. Heck, I barely hear him. My mind is set on the distant district that's most likely populated by thousands of people who hate my guts. He doesn't seem to care that I'm giving him the cold shoulder.

"How's it goin'?" he asks.

My reply is I wince, and I don't even look at him when I make it.

Finnick laughs. "I was expecting a more verbal answer, but I'll settle for that. At least I was able to get some sort of…"

"Finnick, please!" I snap. This time I actually make eye contact with him.

He stares at me blankly for a moment. "Hey, take it easy. I just wanted to…"

"Just leave me alone! I don't want to talk to anyone until we get home!" I cover my ears and plop down into a chair.

But Finnick doesn't leave me alone. Even with my eyes shut and ears covered, I can tell he's still next to me. He even seems to be talking to me. I can't really hear him, but based on the few words I'm able to catch, I think I can tell what he's saying.

"That's fine. You don't have to talk to me," is what I think he starts with. "But that doesn't mean I can't talk to you, right?"

That's what I think follows, but I hope it isn't.

"So I bet you've got some big plans for when you get back home. That's how felt after I became a victor. My first thought when I got out of the arena was, 'I wonder what I should buy first with all that money'."

If he thinks this is even remotely helpful, he needs a wakeup call. All this is doing is making me feel like I'm the only one to come out of that arena who feels any remorse. I know for a fact that he killed far more people in his Games than I did. But it must've been different for him. His experience was probably much more pleasurable and luxurious than mine. No, it _was_. I should know, I watched it from beginning to end just five years ago. He didn't witness the violent death of his district partner. Also, the way he's going on and on about his own Games makes me think he cares about as much about Harper as Amber did. He did mentor the two of us knowing one or both of us would die. Would he be acting like this if Harper were here instead of me? I know I told him I don't want to talk to him, but since he and I are the only people here I can only help but ask.

"You don't care, do you Finnick?" I blurt out.

He gives me that stunned, speechless look again. "I – I'm sorry?"

"You don't care! You're just like all those heartless Capitol idiots! You never cared about Harper!"

Still he looks shocked. "Annie… What's gotten into you?"

"You tell me," I say sobbing. "You saw it! You were watching it all happen on TV! You saw Harper get killed! You saw me run and hide! You saw how I let that one girl live when I could've taken her out in the blink of an eye! You saw it all! You should know what's gotten into me!"

"Annie, please," says Finnick. "Just calm down."

"NEVER!" I scream. "I'll _never_ calm down! Harper told me the Games change people and he couldn't have been more right! The Annie you once knew is gone, Finnick! There's blood on my hands and I see it as clearly as you see these tears in my eyes! I've been changed more in these last few weeks than I have in my whole life, and the old me can never come back!"

"Oh, Annie."

Finnick gently throws his arms around me. I lay my head down on his shoulder and cry like never before. Strange as it may seem, his embrace actually feels calming. Probably because he's the only one who's even offered me a hug since I've been out of the arena.

"I'm sorry about Harper," he says sincerely. "I know he was your friend. And I really did care about him. I cared about you both. But you have to understand what it's like for us mentors. Every year we meet two really great kids with the knowledge that one or both of them is going to die in a matter of weeks. Remember my first year as a mentor? I became really close to our tributes and then both of them died. It's painful for us, but it's just how the Games work."

"It's not fair," I whimper.

"I know it's not," Finnick replies. "But we have to go along with it, or a lot more than twenty-three innocent lives get taken away."

"Why do they get so much pleasure out of watching us suffer?" I ask.

"I wish I could answer that."

I have hundreds of more questions I know he probably can't answer, but if I don't ask them I don't know what I'll do.

"Did you see how they reacted when they saw Harper die?" I ask.

I know he heard me, but he doesn't answer. I don't bother repeating that question. I know he's silent because he's afraid to answer.

"What about when I killed that one girl?" I continue. "How'd they react then? And what about the bloodbath? No, what about the flood?"

Still, he's silent. The answers to all my questions are the same, and I know it.

"Lab rats," I snarl.

"What?" Finnick asks.

"That's all we are to them, isn't it? We're all just a bunch of lab rats in their maze. And I'm the one who made it to the cheese."

"Annie…" Finnick begins.

"You know it's true," I say. "They don't care about Harper, or Amber, or Opal, or Parr, or any of them. All those kids dying before their time, and no one in the Capitol cares. It's sick and inhumane."

"Shh, keep your voice down," says Finnick. "I don't disagree with you, but you can't say things like that out loud. It could be dangerous for you and your family."

I know he's right. I just have to get it off my chest.

"Promise me that when you get home, you won't repeat anything like that in public," he says.

"I promise," I say.

"And promise me that you won't ever go anywhere near alcohol, or morphling, or any other drug. I've seen what those things do to victors who… can't escape what they saw in the Games. Just look at Haymitch Abernathy, and those two morphling addicts from District 6."

I've always known Haymitch is at his worst with a bottle of liquor in his hand. He's the reason District 12 is such a laughing stock. But he's nowhere near as bad as those two from 6. I remember seeing them a few times before the Games, and then wish I hadn't. They're so addicted to morphling, that they're beyond help.

"I don't want to see you end up like them," Finnick continues. "No matter how much these memories haunt you, you have to promise me you'll deal with them yourself."

I think at first that this may be asking too much of me, but I come to the conclusion that he's right. Anything's better than voluntarily becoming a yellow skeleton.

I nod and say, "I promise."

_End of chapter_


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

A few hours later, we arrive at the station in District 4. I look out the window, ignoring the hundreds of my fellow citizens who have been anxiously waiting there for hours. They can cheer and chant my name all they want, but I refuse to crack even the smallest of smiles. I gaze past them and get mixed feelings when I see the beautiful ocean dotted with fishing boats in the distance. When I see it, I feel like I'm officially home and free from the arena, but at the same time I feel like I'm watching the arena, at least the one I left, from a distance. Perhaps I am. Maybe the boats on the surface are fishing for the bodies of Parr, Viola, Opal, and the other tributes so that they can be stuffed into wooden crates and shipped back to their districts. What a horrible thought. It's interrupted when the train comes to a halt.

Finnick puts a caring hand on my back. "I'll make sure you get home in one piece," he says.

When we get off the train, the roar of the cheering explodes in my ears. I throw my hands over them instantly. I am only able to diminish the haunting sound. I can't evade it. Finnick pulls me into his arms and guides me through the crowd, acting as my bodyguard.

"Get back," I hear him say to the people we pass. His warnings don't end there. "Leave her alone." "She doesn't want to see you." "No, kid, you can't have her autograph."

After ten minutes of scraping through the demanding crowd, we get into the car that will take me home. When the chauffeur starts driving, I lean against Finnick and weep.

"It's okay," he says comfortingly. "It's over now."

We stay in this position until the car pulls up to my house minutes later. I don't even bother to look out the window until the chauffeur opens the door. Finnick taps me on the shoulder to get my attention.

"You're home, Annie," he says.

I hate to have to leave his safe embrace, but I know I have to if it means having to face my parents. I nod and we remove ourselves from the leather car seat. I step out onto the familiar front lawn, knowing it's one of the last times I ever will because soon my parents and I will be moving to our new home in the Victor's Village. I do and don't expect what I see when I look up from the ground. My parents are standing at the front door to welcome me home, but to my surprise they're not alone. Harper's family, his mother, father, and two little sisters, are also there to greet me.

"Welcome home, Annie," says my father.

I smile in response, but I don't look at him. I can't right now. I have all the time in the world to look at my parents. For now, my attention goes to Harper's family. All four of them look like they haven't slept for days. They smile at me, but it doesn't distract me from their red, puffy eyes and tearstained faces. I remember how only weeks ago when their son and brother's name was called at the Reaping, they seemed like the proudest family in the world. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"Thanks for the food," I say to his parents.

"It was the least we could do, dear," says his mother.

I look at her for a few seconds and then turn to Harper's sisters, Chloe and Libby. The look on their faces may be the saddest thing I've seen since my experience in the arena. I can't imagine how many times they've crawled into bed with their parents since their brother's death. I think about what Reaping day will be like for the entire family in future years. How will they all react if Chloe's name is called in two years when she becomes eligible? What if the odds are less in her favor than they were in Harper's?

I get down on one knee and put my hands on Libby's shoulders. She may be the one I feel for the most. Not a day older than seven and being forced to watch her brother's peril on TV. I remind myself that she's not the only one. I remember we, the careers, all talked about our families during lunch one day in the Training Center. Opal mentioned having a little brother about Libby's age back home. Viola, at fifteen, was the middle child of five kids. Sterling only had an older sister, but he meant the world to her. I shiver at the thought of how, at this very moment, all of those kids are weeping at the thought of their beloved siblings being murdered in cold blood. How am I going to face them when I see their faces during the Victory Tour?

I remember how close Libby and Harper were. Sometimes on my way to school, I'd see him giving her piggyback rides. It sickens me to think that I'll never see such a blissful moment between the brother and sister again. I know I should be strong for her, but I can't. The memories are too haunting. I give into them and a tear falls from my eye. Libby steps closer to me and throws her small arms around my neck. I return the hug, knowing it's what Harper would've wanted me to do. Before long, Chloe, their parents, and my parents join in the embrace.

I'm so caught up in the moment that I've almost forgotten Finnick is still here. When he comes up behind me and joins in the group, it finally feels complete. He seems to be the only person who can truly calm me completely. I can only help but wonder if this could lead to something.

_The End._


End file.
